


Twelve Hours

by EntreNous



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2006-06-27
Updated: 2006-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-08 20:32:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EntreNous/pseuds/EntreNous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xander's first time at a gay club turns into a night out in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings Note: I haven't tagged this Rape/Non-Con because though there's *attempted* Non-Con, the actual sex is more Dubious Consent. Please take that under advisement if you choose to read this story.
> 
> Story Status: Please note I've tagged this story "Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued". I'm including it with my other archived items on AO3 in part for completion's sake, and in part because if anyone is hoping to find a fic with these characters and this set of tropes, well, here it is, unfinished though it may be. Thank you.

Xander slurped at the dregs of his coke, choking out the last swallow when he sucked up air noisily. The two guys standing near him at the bar said something to each other and walked away.

Not that he could hear what they said -- what with the music going _boom-boom-boom_ with a bunch of _chi-chichi-chi-chichi-chi_ s mixed in -- but from what he could tell, they weren't really talking about how he was such a hot prospect. Not that he'd expected to be the guy with the most names on his dance card, and didn't that have a prison-show-esque double-entendre written all over it? Weirdly appropriate, since he was in a gay club looking to hook up with someone, and since he'd ended up beating off the first time he got to see _Oz_ without the static lines across the screen.

Not that penitentiary shower sex was at all a good thing to think about when mostly what he wanted to do was dance or talk or something equally non-terrifying. He shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to look cool. Sure, he could probably order another coke (the bartender had raised his eyebrows and said "Try again," when Xander had asked for a beer), but he didn't have a ton of cash on him, and plus what if he met some cool guy, and ended up missing out on exchanging digits if he had to run off to pee?

"Hey," a guy next to him said with a nod.

"Hey," Xander nodded. He nodded again right afterwards to emphasize how very down with saying hi he was.

The guy's lips parted, and Xander leaned forward. He stretched out one of his arms along the bar counter so he could look more inviting.

"Um, I'm just going to --" The guy moved towards him, reached around him, and grabbed a napkin. "Thanks."

Luckily the guy left right after, so Xander didn't have to look like the biggest dweeb in dweebsville.

Maybe it was the clothes. He'd decided to go for a tropical-fun look, which translated into cargo pants, flip-flops, a rope thing that was supposed to be a necklace, and a Hawaiian shirt over his t-shirt. But most of the other guys in the club seemed to favor the tight t-shirt and jeans look -- not just on themselves, but on each other, judging from the hands in new-to-Xander places on the dance floor, the grinding kind of dances they were doing, the way some of them were sliding each other's t-shirts up, skimming their palms over bare chests or even, holy moly, rubbing up against the other guy's nipples or even dipping fingers past the waistbands--

"Or just out into the alley," the guy next to him was saying.

Xander really wished he had that last sip of Coke when he turned and tried to speak.

"If you don't want to go into the back," the guy clarified.

When the guy pressed a drink into his hand, Xander took a swig without asking what it was first. It burned going down, and he coughed.

"Double-shot," the guy said loudly into Xander's ear. He seemed to want to make sure Xander understood, but then it also seemed like he'd been jockeying to get his tongue into closer proximity, because . . . oh god . . . "They make it too weak here."

"What?" Xander asked.

"Top shelf," the guy said, like Xander would absolutely know what that meant. Meanwhile, his left hand had gone around Xander’s waist and crept down to stroke over his ass. "Nice," the guy said into his ear, and hey, there was that tongue again. "And something extra, for fun," he added.

"Fun is good," Xander said. His voice sounded breathy to him, and when the guy stepped up against him, pressing him against the wall at the end of the bar and not incidentally pressing himself against Xander, Xander took a shaky breath.

"You know it," the guy said with a grin.

Xander didn't know where to put his hands. After feeling his fingers flutter, he settled them on the guy's hips, then groaned when that obviously encouraged the guy to rub his hard-on against Xander's groin.

"Where did you say you wanted to go again?" the guy whispered into his ear.

The music seemed louder somehow, but better, like it was weaving in and out of him. And the guy, whatever his name was, blurred in front of him until Xander couldn't tell too well what he looked like.

"Alley sounds good," he heard himself say.


	2. Chapter 2

The air outside was like a blast of cold after the steamy humidity of the dance floor scene inside the club, but Xander still felt all hot and sweaty. The drink was back in his hand (when had it been gone?) and he gulped more of it to cool himself off.

"That's right," the other guy said. At least, it sounded like "That's right," but since he said the words against Xander's throat while Xander swallowed, it was a little muffled. But when the guy put his hand on Xander's fly and squeezed Xander's cock through the fabric, Xander found himself willing to get past the specifics of what he'd said exactly, because...guh...

"Fuck, you feel good," the guy hissed. He took away the empty glass and let it fall to the side (dimly, Xander heard it shatter) and mouthed along Xander's throat some more, biting and rasping his tongue along the skin, while his fingers traced Xander's erection. Then he laughed. "But are you _feeling good_ yet?"

When the other man let go for a moment, Xander could feel himself sway. Thankfully the wall was right behind him when he thunked back against it. Nice wall. Good wall. Solid, just like a wall should be. "I feel good," he said finally. The words sounded thick and a little slurred. "Feel kind of funny, sure, but --" He blinked. "Sorry, what?"

"Going to make you feel better," the guy murmured before bringing Xander's arms up, backs of his palms against the wall, and rubbing his body against Xander's. "You want that. Want me to make you feel so good, baby."

"Want that," Xander echoed, thrusting his hips forward. He shuddered when he felt his cock sliding against a matching erection even as he winced at the rough feel of denim of the guy's jeans.

"Let's see what you've got, okay?" the guy asked softly. "You want me to take you out, right baby?"

Suddenly that was all Xander could think about. He whimpered, canting his hips forward, and brought his hand down to cover the other man's fingers, bringing them to the top button. "Please," he panted out.

The guy smiled, though he didn't really look so friendly. "That stuff I put in costs top dollar, but it's really worth it. Kicked in right away, huh?"

Xander gaped at him. "Huh?"

The guy didn't look him in the eye, just undid his button fly and reached to shove Xander's pants and boxers down to his knees. "Fuck...god, I love humans," the guy said dreamily. He'd started stroking Xander already in his fist, and trailed the tip of his tongue along the shell of Xander's ear. "Your bodies are so susceptible. Way less time wasted, you know what I'm saying?"

Xander could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Something in the back of his mind was saying "Run, run, run," but then maybe that was just an earworm from the song he'd heard the DJ spinning. "Oh," he breathed out instead, gripping the other man's shoulders and grunting when he thrust forward.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," the guy crooned to him. He let go of Xander for a moment, and Xander heard himself make a weird plaintive noise, like the guy had just grabbed back some prize Xander had won. "Hang on, baby," the guy went on with a smile as he undid his belt and jeans, letting the denim slide down his thighs before leaning back in. "We've got all night. Least, just for this round of the stuff. Should last at least twelve hours. But hey, I can just always dose you up again."

He heard the words, but it was like they were little wisps of smoke, there at first then dissipating into nothing and making you think maybe you hadn’t seen anything at all. But after the words were gone, the guy was still there, standing up against Xander and breathing hard.

Xander reached his hands forward, moving them like there was some kind of substance he had to push through, and grabbing the other man’s hips to pull him forward.

"Oh, you want it so bad," the other man told him. The words sounded sort of mocking, but Xander barely registered that before twisting against him, panting as he tried to increase the pressure of the other man's body on his. "So fucking bad," the guy continued, but at least now he was moving forward, against Xander, with Xander, making him harder and needier and everything-er. "Going to get you off, give you a taste for it, then later I'll take you back to my place, get those ankles around your ears, get your wrists tied up, fuck you nice and hard. Okay?"

He brought his face closer to Xander's as they began to move faster, and when he licked his lips Xander's eyes widened, because for a second he could have sworn the other man had a forked tongue.

"Okay?" the guy asked again, using one hand to clasp Xander's wrists above his head, the other to trace his thumb across Xander's lower lip.

Xander's jaw clicked when he swallowed. "Okay."


	3. Chapter 3

"Well, well." A voice traveled down the length of the alley. "What do we have here?"

The man holding Xander's wrists muttered, "Fuck off, okay?" over his shoulder. "We're busy."

When he turned back, Xander moaned low in his throat and pressed their bodies together once more, bucking against the cock slip-sliding against his groin. "Don't -- don't," he stuttered, unable to finish the thought _Don't move away again, don't try to leave, don't don't don't_.

"Don't you worry, baby. Not going to let a pretty bitch like you go," the man grunted at him, speeding the pace of his thrusts. "Think I got the pick of the crowd, huh? You're so hot for this, and you're going to love it later on, when I--"

"Don't think I will," the voice said, closer now. "Don't think _you_ will, if it comes to that."

The man slammed Xander forward, growling in frustration as he began to speak to the other person once more. "I told you to get lost!"

Suddenly Xander found himself pressed against the wall, the man he'd been squirming against backed up against him. He blinked and tried to focus. The person who had called out to them was standing in front of them now, was . . . Spike.

"Hi, Spike," Xander mumbled, before lowering his lips to the man's neck, and pushing his hard cock against the man's bare ass.

"Not now," the man growled back at him, and this time, okay, yes, clearly that was a forked tongue, and now that Xander's vision was zoning in just a little better . . . red eyes? "You know this guy?"

Xander stilled, but he made a high, needy sound in his throat. Something had to happen.

"Oh, he knows me. And I know him, though I haven't ever seen him..." Spike paused, and then smirked. "So. Expect to fight me off with your trousers about your knees?" He raised a lit cigarette to his mouth and drew on it. "And me with my clothes still on, and more than happy to tear you apart."

Xander followed the motion of Spike's hand with his eyes, licking his lips when he watched the burn and smelled the smoke. Spike was here. Spike wasn’t supposed to be here, not at a place like this, not while this . . . thing was happening.

"Oh, please," the man laughed. "I don't care how much you want to get your friend out of here. I've fought humans in situations worse than this and won. You should run along, if you know what's good for you."

"Fought humans?" Spike mused. His gaze flickered over to Xander. "Yeah, well. Doesn't look like you've got any objections from that one. What'd you give him, anyway? Boy smells off, like he's been doped up."

"I wasn't talking about him," the man snarled. "He's not a problem; he's just tonight's entertainment. But you, on the other hand, are going to find yourself wishing you'd minded your own business."

Spike snorted. "You get all your threatening lines from bad films?"

And then Xander was suddenly exposed as the man leaped forward towards Spike. He closed his eyes, taking a sharp breath as he felt a wave of _wantwantwant_ wash over him, a force that pulled at him, as though he was a magnet being drawn inexorably forward toward its lodestone.

The sounds of snarls and fists meeting flesh reached his ears, but even that only sharpened the edge of need. He took a short, ragged breath when his eyes began to sting, and after another moment, lowered his hand and stroked his own cock.

The scuffling moved away, punctured with curses and the sound of boxes clattering to the ground. Finally there was silence, then a sharp yelp, then the sound of a _crack!_.

Xander whimpered as he heard footsteps, half ready to shield himself, half ready to fling himself at whoever was walking towards him.

"It's over," Spike said gruffly. Xander opened his eyes, but Spike wasn't looking at him. He was glancing at Xander's fist, which continued to work slowly, tightly, over his cock.

"What'd he give you, anyway?" Spike asked. He took a step closer.

Xander made a strangled sound. "Drink . . . drink, something . . . he wanted me to . . ."

"Yeah, well, cavalry's here," Spike replied. “Can take you home now.”

There was a pause.

"Funny how you keep doing that, pet," Spike said in a low voice.

"Spike . . . please . . " Xander shook his head at Spike, at himself, as he kept easing his fist up and down his prick. This was -- god, he needed this.

"Can't stop, can you?"

Xander shook his head again, snapping his hips up, increasing the pace of his strokes.

"’Course, would be a shame to waste it," Spike said softly.

And then Spike was surging forward.


	4. Chapter 4

Spike was all over him all at once, not handling him yet, just covering him but with clear intent to get closer, get more. For a moment fear flared and burned bright in Xander’s mind. He’d had vampires on him, Spike on him, before, and it wasn’t so much about fun as big-time imminent death, but --

Fun, right? He’d come tonight to have fun. Fun talk, getting to know some guy maybe, get someone’s digits, and that was it.

But then there was more fun to be had, it turned out. Fun was good. The alley sounded good. God, that had _felt_ good, hard and cock-to-cock with some guy whose name Xander had never thought to ask, the guy who was going to rub up against him and touch him the way the men on the dance floor had been touching each other, except with more nakedness.

Had he been afraid? If he’d been afraid, his system worked through it and straight on to immense _want_ so fast that Xander knew deep down that it had been want all along. Want, like he’d wanted that guy who’d been all over Xander too, except now it was Spike who was all over him, except Spike still had his clothes on, had eyes flickering yellow instead of red, and was sporting just a hint of forehead ridges instead of a -- okay, that had _definitely_ been a forked tongue, and Xander filed that revelation away for later, possibly for an _ew_ , or possibly to wonder about the fun, fun things that forked tongue might have done to him.

“Hell, you want it so bad,” Spike murmured, and Xander jerked his head up and down in agreement, whining low in his throat as Spike knocked his hand away and took over, stroking Xander deftly, first too lightly, then too fast, all of it making Xander’s body twitch to the verge of thrashing.

“Bad, want it, want it bad,” Xander repeated, biting his lip as he thrust into Spike’s hand.

“Wait,” Spike said. He pressed Xander back, and Xander felt his head make a dull, painless _thunk_ against the wall. “From anyone? Take on any guy who’d have a go with you in the state you’re in, would you?”

“No, no,” Xander protested, gasping the words. “You, you, you, you--”

Not that it was supposed to be Spike, it was supposed to be -- someone, Xander wasn’t totally sure who. But not Spike, who always rolled his eyes at Xander and snorted when Xander messed up on patrol or grumbled about having to save Xander from rampaging demons or rogue magic blasts or Xander’s own two stumble-y feet.

But yes, it _was_ supposed to be Spike, Spike who’d . . . won him, somehow, won this, and Xander closed his eyes for only a moment to find his mind flashing images at him of Spike rubbing against him, Spike mouthing at his neck, Spike bending him over, and --

“You, you, you,” he continued desperately.

Spike laughed, covering Xander’s mouth to stop the sound. Xander bit and licked at Spike’s fingers, half-closing his eyes, and Spike laughed again. “Yeah, okay. You’re so far gone -- it doesn’t matter right now anyway, because fact is, you’re gagging for it, and I’m going to be the one to give it to you.”

Xander tried to express what a great idea this seemed like by shimmying against Spike as best he could while being pinned to the wall.

“Fuck yes,” Spike hissed at him, before lunging forward and covering Xander’s mouth with his. And hey, that was new, the kissing thing added to the repertory of wriggling and panting and pants dropping down around his ankles. Xander kissed back, making it harder and deeper when Spike did, eagerly sucking on Spike’s tongue when it flicked into his mouth, encouraging more and faster until Spike’s tongue was thrusting into him just like a fuck, just like they were going to fuck, just like Spike’s hard cock was thrusting against him and would thrust inside him if only --

“Fuck me, Spike, please, fuck,” Xander muttered when he got a chance to breathe.

“Right to the main event, eh?” Spike asked, but the way he touched his tongue to the back of his teeth told Xander that he thought that was a good thing. He thumbed over Xander’s cock head and grinned. “Suppose I can oblige. Not like we can’t go back and do more . . . unless this is some kind of one-shot potion, wears off after you get what you want. That case, suppose I'd better worry about--”

“Twelve hours,” Xander blurted. “Twelve hours, he said, the dose, the whatever, the drink that I had . . .”

“All right, calm down,” Spike murmured. Then he barked another laugh. “I mean, not so calm. Want you nice and hot like this, all wanting and pretty with those tears in your eyes because you need it so much. Like you’d just do anything I liked, sink to your knees and suck me off, and --”

Xander didn’t hear the rest of that, because he was too busy sliding so Spike was the one with his back to the wall, and then sinking to his knees.


	5. Chapter 5

At first Spike was still as Xander mouthed at him through his jeans but then he tilted his hips forward. "Like taking orders, do you?" he asked.

When Xander looked up, his lips pressed tight around the denim outlining Spike’s hard on, Spike was watching him avidly. Xander let his eyelashes flutter, putting his tongue and mouth to work saying _like it, so much, fuck, please_ for him without the words.

“Dying for it, I’d wager, way you followed that one. Go on, then.”

When Xander got Spike's button fly open and frantically fed Spike's hard long cock into his mouth, he made a grateful sound high in his throat. Yes, god yes, he'd wanted this. Not that he'd ever -- he'd never -- he'd thought about it, sure, fantasized about it, watched porn and downloaded clips of other guys and girls doing it, beat off more than once with his fingers sliding in and out of his mouth, pretending . . . So okay, he'd never specifically thought, _Gee, I'd sure like Spike's undead prick jabbing in my mouth_. But now that it was, now that Spike had begun a slow rolling motion with his hips, starting a series of shallow thrusts past Xander’s lips, Xander knew this was what he had wanted all along.

He gagged a little but moved his mouth forward anyway. He had to have it, the touch and taste of soft skin, feel of the foreskin, this erection forcing forward, filling his mouth. Had to have it now, so much, had always, since before he could even articulate to himself that he might look at another guy and feel something in his stomach flip, and Spike, Spike was the one giving it to him.

"Eager thing," Spike choked out above him. His fingers twisted in Xander's hair, and he grunted when Xander eased back for a moment to lick around the cock head with small needy noises. "All about getting down to it, eh?" When Xander plunged his mouth down that hard length again, tightening his lips even more this time, they both moaned. _Yes, yes_ , Xander wanted to say, but it came out spit-thick, mumbling stutters, more like animal muttering than human words.

“Fuck, you’re pretty like that,” Spike said suddenly, taking Xander’s head and riding forward faster now. When Xander whimpered, Spike's hips snapped forward, and even as far gone as Spike had to be he paused, as though he was going to ask after the gasping sounds Xander made. But Xander made a noise of protest, grabbed Spike’s hips and pulled them forward harder, until his nose was rubbing the tender skin around Spike’s groin, buried in the sharp curls there.

“Right then,” Spike hissed. “Want it that bad; I want to give it to you. No reason to make either of us wait, yeah?”

And it was harder now, stronger, both Spike’s cock and the short arcs his pelvis made as he shoved himself into Xander’s mouth over and over and over.

Xander’s eyelids, when he closed them, were a fairway fireworks show, flashes and bursts of colors whenever Spike bucked forward. Even as he felt his throat try to close as it throbbed (probably starting to bruise) even as he made strangled sounds when Spike went too fast, even as his eyes stung with tears, Xander’s whole body thrummed and surged with something like joy.

Then Spike was shouting, cursing, and Xander made his throat work to swallow so he wouldn’t lose all of it.

Spike stretched, riding into it slower now, one hand still in Xander’s hair, combing through as he gave a pleased kind of growl.

Xander sucked just a little harder even after the last tremor, not wanting to let Spike’s prick slip from his mouth even if it had to soften.

But when he realized that it wasn’t softening, he made an excited, needy sound.

“You love it, don’t you, pet?” Spike breathed. “Only that good on the drugs, I’ll bet. Probably didn’t like it nearly that much the last time you went down on a man.”

“Never, never did that,” Xander whispered when Spike eased him off slightly. “Never, just tonight, just you.” He licked his lips, leaning forward, but Spike grabbed his shoulders to keep him back.

Spike cocked an eyebrow at him, and Xander got a weird urge to roll his eyes back. Instead he kept them open and fixed on Spike’s lips, waiting for some word or cue that said he could take Spike in his mouth again.

“Never, eh? Probably been thinking about it for a long while, then. Wondering what it’d be like if you could work up the nerve. Waiting to see if someone would ask you, someone willing to keep quiet, make it easy for you.”

Xander nodded, and Spike’s words, the lilt and rhythm of them, reminded him that he was still hard. He sneaked his hand into his lap, sliding loosely over his erection to the tune of Spike’s questions.

“So why didn’t you? Must have gotten your fair share of offers. Full lips like yours, mouth on you when you talk to much that only shows how much you want it filled.”

Xander whined at this, but he tightened his grip, shuddering as he started a faster stroke.

“Must have been scared. Not just to try it, but for what it’d mean. Probably bought a book or two, or snuck a look somewhere, found out that it didn’t have to mean anything. Bet you told yourself it was normal just to think about it, though, even while you wanted someone to get you on your knees just like this.”

Xander breathed harder as he lifted his hips up, cupping and massaging his balls with one hand as he kept up the tight pulling.

Spike stroked his hair again, and it was a little exasperated, a little affectionate, the way he threaded his fingers through. “Not true, though, eh pet? Because you’re a pretty little cocksucker, born for it. You felt so right getting it in your mouth at long last, didn’t you? Loved it hard like that. But you’d probably love it slow too, give you all night to take your time and do it up proper, trace every last bit with your mouth, cock and balls and everywhere you could reach, catch the drops on your tongue and face, feel me rub it into your skin.”

Xander’s hips jerked forward involuntarily, and he let his head fall back, still looking up at Spike.

“So you came here tonight to get it done up right, then? Give it up for some handsome bloke who’d promise to call you after?”

Xander bit his lip. “Not -- didn’t -- wasn’t going to go anywhere with anybody, but then . . .”

Spike groaned. “You mean you came here to meet some nice boy to have a little _chat_ with him?”

Xander chewed his lip as he tried to think.

“Well, that’s not going to happen now,” Spike told him. “What’s going to happen now is that I’m going to fuck you, like you want, like I want.”

Xander curled his forefinger and thumb around the base of his erection, squeezing and making himself hold still. “Please,” he whispered.


	6. Chapter 6

Spike pulled him up with a hard yank, hands gripping his shirt more than his shoulders, so fast that Xander went from kneeling to balancing on the balls of his feet in a dizzying flash. Of course Xander stumbled along in his flip-flops, coming up so fast with his pants down around his ankles, and his head swimming from the rapid movement. But Spike seemed to find all of that charming, if someone went by the way he laughed and then growled and then dove for Xander.

There was some fumbling and kicking over of crates and clutter before Spike got them where he wanted to be. He ripped off Xander's Hawaiian print outer shirt, and while Xander stood blinking, turned him around and then thrust out Xander's arms for him. "Hold on to that, pet," he advised, wrapping Xander's hands around a waist-high bar attached to some kind of metal storage box.

Xander leaned forward so he could do as he was told, making sure he had a tight hold on the bar, and then arched his back. For a second he had a picture of himself in his mind's eye, pants pooled on the ground, ass raised in the air, t-shirt the only thing actually on his body, and he had a ghost of an idea that he shouldn't want this. But then he felt a hand stroke up the curve of his ass, and the image was gone. He hummed under his breath and spread his legs.

Spike take a quick breath before biting out, "Oh. Fuck." A beat passed before Spike was pressed up behind him, already starting to rub against him, the way Xander had against the other man who...demon, it had been a demon.

It didn't matter.

Spike grunted just as he rubbed against him in a really, really right way. "Oh," Xander said in surprise. It wasn't what he expected, but he'd take what he could get, so he pushed his hips back, trying to direct the movement without much success.

"Bloody hell, forgot that we'd need something," Spike muttered. "Can't just...should've taken you somewhere else for this part."

Xander swallowed. "Probably...he had some."

"He..." Spike stilled, his fingers spread to cover Xander's hips.

"When he...in the club..." Xander hoped Spike could fill in the rest.

Spike made a sort of tsk-ing sound, a cluck of his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Well, look who's gotten all resourceful? Can't imagine you looting bodies after fights, but it's a different thing, isn't it, when you want something so badly?"

Xander said nothing, just gripped the metal bar harder, feeling the paint chip off in his hands. He didn't turn when he heard Spike rummaging around in the direction of where the sounds of the fight had come.

"Right you are," Spike murmured as he took his place again behind Xander. "Makes me think better of him, almost, that he wasn't going to -- well. That doesn't matter now."

And it really, really didn't matter, because Xander shivered at the _snick_ of the cap flipping back, the dull thick sound of the squirt, all of it what felt like centuries before Spike was easing in a slick finger.

He'd always imagined this was the get-it-over-with part, the obligatory slick and stretch, but it turned out he'd been wrong. Or he'd been wrong where Spike was concerned, because Spike kept on with it, way after the point of it feeling weird changed over to feeling all kinds of good, way after the point at which Xander heard himself make little sounds as he moved back to take more of it in, way beyond the point at which Xander whimpered until one finger became two fingers became three.

"Okay then," Spike said, and his voice, low and thrilling, vibrated through Xander. "Here we go."


	7. Chapter 7

When it started, Spike’s cock actually sliding slow _slowslow_ into him, Xander inhaled sharply and squeezed his eyes shut.

It hurt, kind of, that dull insistent press. Hurt in a way that didn’t come with much pain, whether that made sense or not. But it felt wrong and weird in a way that sent a shock through his brain, made him feel like he’d woken all at once from a nap taken by accident, groggy, sweat-slick, and overheated.

Then Spike moved forward.

Xander’s fingers came around the width of the metal bar he held onto so fast that he felt the surprise sharpness of his nails digging in quickly to his palms, no doubt leaving half-moon reminders for him to see later.

“Shhh, shhhh,” Spike soothed, and Xander focused on that sound. “Be all right in a minute, I promise you.”

In answer Xander gave a jerky nod of his head, and tried not to whimper when he felt Spike’s hipbones start to meet his skin.

“There,” Spike said. He stroked his fingers along Xander’s back, over the material of his t-shirt and then under it, and Xander shivered. “All the way there, and in just a moment, you’ll get what you came for.”

“Came for,” Xander repeated, and for some reason, he pictured the view of his closet as he’d stood in front of it earlier that night, trying to fool himself into thinking he wasn’t nervous as he picked out what to wear.

“Shhh, shhh,” Spike said again, and Xander rested his forehead against the cool metal despite the scrape of the paint flaking off the bar.

“All right,” Spike whispered, and Xander licked his lips.

It was different as Spike drew back and then pushed forward again. Still odd, still uncomfortable, but instead of the sense of push and force, there was a stuttering slide in. It made Xander gnaw on his lip, but in determination more than anything else.

“Relax,” Spike said low.

“Oh,” Xander said aloud. His jaw went slack, though how he’d managed that he wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, it spread through his body like a string pulled taut had been eased of its pressure, making his shoulders drop, his torso stretch. As the last of it unfurled along his muscles, he tilted his hips up as an experiment, and with that Spike was easing in further than he’d been before. “Oh,” he said again, more of a breathy sound this time.

“Fuck yes,” Spike hissed.

This time when Spike pulled out then rolled his hips forward, Xander moved in time, drawing himself in then lifting and working his hips back. A few not-on-purpose syncopated beats to their actions, and then they were moving at a steady pace with one another.

“That’s right, fuck yourself on me,” Spike crooned, and Xander cried out as he jutted his hips back. It threw him off, the quick-time lurch of his body in answer, but it felt so good that he didn’t much care, and so he did it again.

“Bloody hell, yes. That’s it. You want this so much, so much, love. And you’ll want it even more when I’m done with you.”

Xander was glad of the bar more than ever now, as he used it to leverage himself and hold himself up while Spike settled into a quick, fast pace. “Oh, oh,” he repeated. There weren’t better words for it.

“Like it like this?” Spike panted, as though reading Xander’s thoughts. “Can’t imagine you’d make a fuss about it being a bit quick and dirty, what with being ready to go in an alley, but…”

“I like it,” Xander rasped out. It was all he could manage.

Then Spike rolled his hips a different way, started a twist and push that was like a brand new flavor of amazing, and Xander gave a short, high cry. A series of thrusts later, and he was crying out on every stroke.

They both heard the back door from the club creak open, though only Xander froze. Spike slowed, but he kept up the arc of motion, longer and deeper as footsteps echoed and the act of something being heaved into a dumpster gave off a distinct _smish_ of a noise.

Anther swinging _creak_ of the door. Another set of footsteps.

“Hey, hurry it up,” a man called out.

“Damn it. Hold on a second. You hear something?” the first man asked.

A throat cleared.

“Guess it’s just . . .” The sentence trailed off.

“Probably rats,” the other said cheerfully.

Spike’s hand went over Xander’s mouth, and Xander bit back a moan.

“Some guy jumps you, mugs you on your way home, you tell me tomorrow it was rats,” the first retorted.

Spike’s fingers tightened, and Xander held himself more still for a moment until he realized it was almost the gesture equivalent of Spike snorting.

“No one’s going to mug me,” the other guy said in an indignant voice. From there the two of them kept speaking, a back-and-forth squabble that became a low hum.

“Now, pet,” Spike whispered. He was draped over Xander, and the words in Xander’s ear were suddenly the only thing Xander could pay attention to. “You’ll have to be quiet, now, won’t you? No more of those pretty cries, not while we’re out here.” While he spoke, he started rolling his hips forward again, a little faster now, and Xander whimpered against Spike’s fingers so he wouldn’t make any revealing sounds.

Spike leaned back again, so that he was standing upright while he thrust forward, taking his hand with him to squeeze Xander’s hips. Xander breathed out a sigh of relief as the men in the other part of the alley continued talking, thanked whatever random impulses had made Spike choose a spot that was at least partly obscured.

Then Spike shoved up Xander’s t-shirt and pressed down on the small of Xander’s back as he started to snap his hips forward. The concentration of weight made Xander bow his back, and the effort to keep quiet made everything around him merge into a dull roar, as though his ears were blocked.

Spike’s other hand wrapped around Xander’s prick, and Xander tried to make the thrust of his hips back express his gratitude.

“Fine,” one of the men said to the other in what was obviously the kicker to a rousing debate, and they slammed back into the club, clanging the door behind them.

Xander muttered something, and Spike gave him a warning growl.

“Might come back, yeah?”

So when Spike started to drive into him hard and then harder, Xander swallowed all his grunts, tried to dampen the harsh sounds of his breathing, and as Spike slammed forward with a volley of thrusts, finally came with a silent cry.


	8. Chapter 8

Minutes later they were walking at a near-jog to Xander’s apartment.

He barely remembered the exchange that had steered them out of the alley, because as soon as the idea of being alone with Spike back at his place fully penetrated his thinking, he was in a rush to get moving. Spike had laughed when he’d taken the first few steps, pulled him back and pretty much yanked him into his clothes. But there was a tiny part of Xander that had voted for going as is if it meant getting there faster.

Once or twice they stopped in doorways or in dark alcoves, Spike doing that almost sub-sonic growl thing that made Xander gasp and move up and down against him before Spike even got him backed up against a wall to kiss him. Every step brought them closer, and every step was one too many to have to take to get what he wanted.

At least he wasn’t the only one who wanted.

“Going to fuck you all night long,” Spike muttered as they crossed the last street that took them to the apartment complex. His hand rested on the nape of Xander’s neck. “Every way I can have you, for as long as it lasts.” His fingertips massaged Xander’s neck and then gave a tug to the rope-necklace Xander wore. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Like it,” Xander agreed, and stepped forward with renewed urgency.

“Spike,” a low voice said.

Spike’s fingers on Xander’s necklace tightened as Xander was in mid-stride. Xander tried to swallow the choking sound he made in response as he came to a stop.

“Barry,” Spike said in a bored voice.

There was a moment like a picture coming into focus, in which Xander gaped at a salmon-skinned jagged-toothed seven-foot-tall humanoid demon and thought, “ _Barry_? Couldn’t your mom have picked something to strike even the tiniest bit of fear into people’s hearts?”

But then everything else blurred out, and all Xander could see was Spike stopping in front of him, subtly blocking him (protecting him?) from the demon’s view. He skidded closer to Spike, then snaked his arms around Spike’s torso, lowering his head to lick and bite gently along Spike’s neck.

“Spike,” the demon answered. “Good to see you.” There was a pause. “That’s a nice boy you’ve got there.”

Spike’s shoulders tensed just a little, and Xander’s hands were rubbing at them before he had thought it through much at all.

“Yeah,” Spike said finally. “He’ll do.”

“Haven’t seen you at the bar for a while,” Barry said.

Spike’s shoulders eased down.

There was a back-and-forth then that Xander didn’t pay attention to, something about poker and whiskey and a get-together at Jake’s. He hummed a little to himself as the talk sent vibrations through Spike’s chest, and sighed as he brushed his lips along Spike’s neck.

“Well. Places to go, boys to fuck,” Spike told Barry. “Come along,” he told Xander in a low voice, and Xander stumbled to follow him.

“Got him on that yohimbe powder, huh?” Barry asked as they passed him. “He’s got that look to him.”

“Hang on.” Spike stopped. Xander reached out to grab him again, and Spike waved him away. “Take a seat over there, pet. Daddy’s going to find out what Barry has to say.”

So Xander sat cross-legged on the grass that Spike had pointed to, rubbing his arm to smooth up and down the goosebumps he got even just from hearing Spike talk to the demon in low tones a few feet away. Spike talked, the demon talked, and they kept on talking, Xander let his eyes half-close as he remembered having Spike in his mouth, having Spike push inside of him. By the time he’d let his hand drift up to trace over his nipples, first one, then the other, back and forth, back and forth, he was panting.

“Let’s go,” Spike said at last. Xander scrambled to his feet and followed.

Barry had gone at some point. But that didn’t occur to Xander until they were already inside of his building and at the hallway leading to his apartment. And really, he didn’t much care about what happened to Barry, though when he thought about Barry’s teeth, he got the funny sensation that he was supposed to . . . do something, tell someone, about that. In case of . . . something.

“Well?” Spike asked, and instantly Xander focused on him.

“Here.” Xander clenched and unclenched his fists when they stopped at his door. “This is . . . I live here.” His voice sounded hoarse to him, as though he hadn’t spoken in a long time.

“Have to invite me in, pet,” Spike said. “ ‘Course, have to let yourself in first.”

“Right, right,” Xander muttered. His hand shook as he got his key out, as he tried to insert it in the lock.

Finally Spike took the ring from him with a jangle and opened the door.

Xander stepped inside and swallowed. “Come in.”

One second Spike was standing there in the hall. The next he was holding Xander against the now-closed door, covering Xander’s lips with his.

Xander whimpered against Spike’s mouth as he parted his lips. Then he gasped, because his t-shirt was being torn right off him.

“Don’t you worry about that little run-in back there,” Spike told him. He groaned and thumbed over Xander’s nipples, and Xander’s back arched as he tried to get more of that touch. “Watched you over there, when you thought I wasn’t paying attention. Couldn’t go long, could you, without it? If I’d kept on, would you have taken yourself out, fisted yourself because you couldn’t wait?”

Xander pressed his chest against Spike’s hands with a moan, and then said, “Um. What?”

For a moment Spike stopped and just looked at him. Then: “Have you, all of you,” Spike muttered, and it didn’t make sense in Xander’s head, but then again it didn’t need to, because all he had to do right now was hold onto Spike’s arms, suck on Spike’s tongue, and move against Spike until he heard the growling sound that meant Spike really liked what he was doing.


End file.
